


Past is Prologue

by BloodMooninSpace



Series: Renegades [1]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s01e01-02 Children of the Gods, F/M, POV Jack O'Neill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 14:28:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18662233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodMooninSpace/pseuds/BloodMooninSpace
Summary: They have returned through the gate with refugees from over a dozen worlds. Neither Teal'c nor Shau'ri can go home.There are some Suits on earth who are not satisfied with reports of a civilian alien wife possibly joining their front line team.





	Past is Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [One Dimension Removed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/979473) by [tafkar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tafkar/pseuds/tafkar). 



Jack paced the observation room, looking at the closed-circuit feed of the security cameras, and the feed from the camera aimed at the geeks' wife. She asked to come; he couldn’t leave her behind, not when she had that fire in her eyes, not when she spoke the language of these goa'ulds. The suits from Washington want to bury her involvement. They don’t want to trust either of the aliens he brought back. Yeah, Teal’c is a longshot, but the various services work with turncoat enemy combatants in every engagement. 

“Ms. Sha’re,” Suit One sounds snide. She is young enough to be his granddaughter, and that won’t win her any favors. 

“Mrs. Jackson.” Jack smiled as she interrupted.

“What was that?” The state department goon, Suit Two, looked up from his paperwork. Shau'ri looked pretty comfortable in her civilian garb. Captain Carter had gotten her some things from the mall. The dress was a deep earthy brown, combined with the cavernous draping tan sweater; it looked like something he could see Sara wearing or one of her friends from the PTA. Yet, it looked so settled on her, so right.

“I am aware of your naming convention, so while we are on Earth, we will use the Tauri names. That is an agreement my husband and I came to long ago. Here I am Mrs. Jackson, in your formal proceedings.”

The vein on the back of the Suit One's neck isn’t supposed to pulse like that, and that muscle tick in his neck is a dead giveaway.

But it’s Suit Two that speaks. “Ma’am. There are no legal records of your marriage here in the states, I’m afraid –“

“We are, what you call, On The Record, Yes?” Shau'ri interrupted the goon again, leaning forward towards the recorder on the desk.

“The people of my city believe that Ra had come to walk among us. When Da’nere made it clear that he was not a god, but a mortal man, we thought him to be touched by the gods themselves. I offered him a bowl of cactus wine, he drank of it, and we retired to his tent. Such is our customs to tie two tribes together. He was a gentleman and refused my hands that night. He said this was an earth custom. Over the course of that week, Ra was slain at the hands of Jack O’Neill, and Da’nere found the cave with the reference points for the Stargate, that he could send his people home. He stayed for me, actions which he assured me were highly prized in the lore and ballads of your world. Independent research since my arrival confirms this.

“On the 13 th night past the burning of Ra, the 12 th day the gate was buried, Da’ner came to me. He brought me a bowl of cactus wine and told me that he may be the last of the Tauri to visit Abydos, but he would be honored to join with us. We both drank from the bowl, then stood before my father and the assembled revelers to announce our intent. We were blessed by my people, and so retired to my tent.” Shau'ri had spoken every word clearly into the microphone, her eyes never wavering from Suit Two. When she sat back and upright, for a moment, Jack could almost see her draped in the splendor of a queen, in her pride alone.

“Ms. Shau’ri that was a marriage ritual of an unknown people in hostile territory,” Suit One’s voice had somehow gotten even more grating.  “Not even performed by the local government we can’t allow you to-“

“If you will not address me by your worlds customs, then you will name me for who I am. I am Shau’ri, beloved of the Godslayer, daughter to the King of a Thousand Nights. I am the mother to the future Pharaohs and Queen-elect of the lands seen by the three eyes of the suns. I am the Handmaiden of the Gates of the City of Kings, the Watcher of the Wells of the keep. I stood before the people as they cried their approval with a hundred thousand voices, an approval that shattered pottery where it sat in windowsills. Who are you to allow me anything?”

Suit Two is sitting so stiffly, his pen breaks in his hand. The guard on the door grabs the trashcan and brings it over. Suit Two brings out a nicer pen from the inside jacket pocket of his suit coat. 

“Shall we continue?” Suit One grinds out the words. Staring up at 6 feet of bureaucratic nightmare fuel, and she is still as calm as the sweeping skies over Montanna.

“Ma’am, whomever you might be on your homeworld, there are no means for us to validate your claim.”

Shau’ri inhaled softly, then curled forward in her chair, her lips hovering close to the microphone. When she speaks, it is not the commanding voice of the Queen-elect of Abydos; it is the voice of a woman, the same one Jack shared liquor with around the feasting fires when he and the team had returned to Abydos.  

“On our first night, after I took him to bed, I undressed before the man I believed to be an emissary of the God above all others, Ra himself. In his eyes there was wonder, and he held his gaze to my flesh. He drunk me in like the cacti drink of the summer rains, and his smile held the sunshine of the Longest Day when the sun sits high in the sky for a dozen slumbers.” Her voice was low and sonorous, and the men in the room couldn’t seem to look away from her lips as they traced words in the air a scant centimeter from the microphone. “He left his Tauri garments on when he approached me, his hands as gentle as a Saffa-picker avoiding the nettle as he led me toward the bed. He bade me sit, and then this Ra-Da'nere, emissary of the god himself knelt between my knees. His upturned face held concern as he asked ‘may I?’ his hand stalled over my mound. In the ancient traditions of my people, I told him that all that I had, all that I was, I offered him as his own. A smile split his face like a sunbeam through a sandstorm, and he leaned forward to kiss my belly. He said ‘than wife mine, as you are mine, so too is your pleasure. Let us share the pleasures of your body for a time’.”

Shau’ri smiled across the microphone at them, it was warm and wicked, and Jack was sure he could hear the heavy breathing of the bureaucrats through the intercom.

“Shall I detail how he shared my pleasure? His tongue, that spoke so prettily of far off worlds knowing my curves as the winds of the desert know the dunes. His hands brought warmth to my skin, and he learned me until my mind was calm, as warm and languid as the midday. Only then did his hands travel to my mound, to move through the slick and send pleasure through me like mirages rising from the desert sand.”

“I have no words for how it felt when his mouth displaced his hands, and it would be lying to call the feeling singular because, in the months of our marriage, he brought me to pleasure first every time he took me to bed. He watched my body, working my flesh with his hands even as he stirred within me, bringing me to pleasure with him as he seeded me.”

“He was a generous husband in bed and shared with me what it meant to bed a lover each night. In the day, he walked among the people, listening and learning our language, our history. He learned our laws, and he found among the elders one who had symbols for the words of my people. He learned our writing, and in turn, helped teach our children the writing of our people, long sheltered from the far-seeing eye of Ra.”

“He held me and shared my sorrow when our first child grew without quickening, born without breath or heart. We did not yet have a second chance before Amuanet came into our home, in our time of Joy, and stole him like a serpent from the guarded nest.

“He was a husband of whom the scribes should sing praises, for he is honorable above reproach. Our marriage is beyond your need for validation or claim.  His love and faithfulness shall be sung into legend, as Ra-kek Dan’el, the Godslayer, the great speaker, consort of the sun, he who hears, and pharaoh amongst mortals.”

Shau’ri sat up, and Jack shook himself, the spell of her words playing out along his nerves. Jack struggled to collect himself and to reconcile the dorky geek with floppy hair with the consort of whom she spoke. Who knew the geek had it in him?

Shau’ri stood in a fluid motion, and Jack wondered how he had ever missed the smooth athleticism in the fluid movements. How did he overlook the regal bearing, the assessing gaze?

She looked over the men before her, her eyes skipping off them and the corner of her nose pulling slightly into the impression of a sneer before smoothing out to the soft face Jack was just now realizing she wore as her courtly mask. She had fooled him, that’s for sure.

“You are unfit to cross his shadow, and I will not grant you audience again.” Jack bolted out of the observation room and down to the hallway in time to greet her as she strode out of the room – head high, gaze level.

“Colonel Jack.” Relief melted down his spine when he heard respect and warmth in her voice.

“Interviews over?” Jack said, offering her a smile.

“For now.”

“Is there somewhere I may escort you?” He asked, offering her his arm.

“I will retire to my rooms.” She paused, then flashed him a smile full of mischief. “Perhaps we could stop at the commissary first; Samantha informed me today they will be serving the delicacy of blue jello, and that it is among the wondrous treats of your world.”

“Ah yes,” Jack said as they fell into step along the corridor. “But have you yet tasted pie? Shau’ri, you must try the pie.” He felt a tug at his arm, and he stopped, turning to her.

“You need not be formal with me, Ra-kek Colonel Jack O’Neill. Shau’ri is a formal name for formal relations. You died and returned from the grave with my Dan’el, brothers in battle, death, and rebirth. As a brother of my heart, you are welcome to call me Sha’re.”

“Jack. Just, Jack.” He smiled when she did, and they resumed their quest towards the pie.

 

* * *

Two weeks later, a clammy Lieutenant recited a formal announcement in the Oval Office:

“Shau'ri, beloved of the Godslayer, daughter to the king of a thousand nights, Mother to the future Pharaoh, and Queen-elect of the lands seen by the three eyes of the suns, Handmaiden of the Gates of the city of Kings, Watcher of the Wells of the Keep. She who stood before the people and they cried their approval with a hundred thousand voices; here to see the President of the United States Of America.”

The President stepped forward and clapped his hands over hers in an enthusiastic two-handed shake. “Mrs. Jackson, it is so good to meet you, the pleasure is all mine. I am very excited about the possibilities of what our peoples can build together.”

“Thank You, Mr. President. It is my hope that together we can repeat our success on Abydos and burn a thousand false gods from their thrones of tyranny.”

Jack sat in the briefing and watched the young woman who if raised on earth might be navigating a college campus, shape the future of the Stargate program.

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this piece for quite a while, and I've been trying to figure out how it publishes into the greater universe of Renegades. I think I'm happy with where it fits. I cried when I re-read it, getting ready to rewrite and edit it into place as the prologue for the series. 
> 
> *chinhands* What do you think?


End file.
